


High hopes

by ChloShow



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloShow/pseuds/ChloShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinesh meets the girl of his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Her name’s Natasha. She’s super cool and easy to talk to, which is surprising because I usually lie about my interests with women to make me appear cultured. But no, we play the same video games, and she knows code. I know, you’re thinking she’s probably ugly, but look!” Dinesh pulls up his online dating profile to show Gilfoyle his latest romantic conquest.

“How do you know she’s not lying about her appearance?” Gilfoyle hovers over his friend’s desk, inspecting Natasha’s profile with a keen eye.

“I’ll just ask to meet up with her. It’s not too soon to ask that though, is it? We’ve only been talking for two weeks, and I don’t want to rush anything--I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Gilfoyle smirks, “Well, you better make sure not to meet her here. Don’t want Erlich sweeping her off her feet and into his bed.”

“No, man, I thought about that, but I think Natasha’s as into me as I’m into her. Can I be real with you for a minute? Ya know, without your usual bullshit.” He lowers his voice although their living room workspace is unoccupied by anyone else other than the two of them.

“What bullshit? No, go ahead, ‘get real.’” Gilfoyle sips his beer and sits down to hear Dinesh deliver the news.

Dinesh is as giddy and nervous as he usually is when confronted with the possibility of getting laid, but his next words take Gilfoyle by surprise, “I think she might be the one.”

***

The bar’s classy enough although the karaoke in the back is a bit much, a little too “Buffalo Wild Wings” for his taste. As he scans the sea of heads illuminated by various brand signs, he spots a familiar face standing near the jukebox.

“What are you doing here?” Dinesh seethes at Gilfoyle, all the while keeping his eye out for his precious Natasha.

“I’m here to watch your date not show up.”

“How do you know Natasha’s not going to show up? You’re probably repelling her with your off-putting Canadian aura.”

“No, I mean I _know_ she’s not going to show up,” the expression on Dinesh’s face isn’t as funny as he told himself it would be, “You’re five minutes late.”

“I would’ve been here earlier, but I didn’t want to come off as desperate.”

“Listen, if anything, women always arrive early to scout out the place. She could be fashionably late, but knowing you,” he scans Dinesh’s stripped rugby shirt/blazer combo, “that’s probably not a possibility. If she’s not here already, 95% chance she’s stood you up.”

Dinesh runs through various scenarios, defending Natasha’s honor, but 30 minutes and about 13 worried text messages later, he finally accepts he’s been stood up.

“I can’t believe it. I really thought she cared about me. I’m gonna get so wasted that I forget I ever placed my trust in another human being.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gilfoyle nudges his downtrodden friend, “Is there any way we can salvage this night with an emotionally cathartic round of karaoke?”

“Oh, no, I do not sing, and you are _not_ recording any of the singing that _might_ happen tonight.”

***

Dinesh sings an angry rendition of Alanis Morrisette’s “You Learn” that ends with the audience sparsely clapping over several comments about “a bitch named Natasha.” When he finds his way back to their table, Gilfoyle fires off a quick, "You know Alanis Morrisette's Canadian, right?" before boarding the stage himself.

“Uh, this song’s dedicated to someone very special,” Gilfoyle pauses dramatically, leaving Dinesh to wonder momentarily if he was that special someone, “This one’s for you, Satan.”

During his performance of “The Piña Colada Song,” Gilfoyle watches Dinesh laugh and take a few videos, but the fun they have doesn’t completely clear his conscience.

He didn’t mean for this whole Natasha thing to get out of hand. He meant it as a joke really. He was going to show Dinesh that he should stop online dating because he was just wasting his time, and he’d shown up at the bar to reveal himself as “Natasha.” But he couldn’t bring himself to break his friend’s heart.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A simple click, and he could delete Natasha’s dating profile, severing her from reality once and for all. Although her continued existence leaves Gilfoyle tangibly culpable for his friend’s emotional devastation, he delays wiping Natasha from his and Dinesh's life. 

The profile began as a joke, a prank within the usual confines of their typical, playfully antagonistic buffoonery. As they chatted for hours online at night (in separate rooms of the same house), Gilfoyle rationalized his cruelty under the guise that he was helping Dinesh. If the only woman he could actually hit it off with was a guy, that would put the final nail in Dinesh’s hopeless hetero coffin. He’d finally wise-up and start pursuing men.

He was sure after their night at the bar that Dinesh would cut all contact with his elusive love interest. Well, he was 85% sure, and his judgment was clouded by hope that they would both forget Natasha ever happened.

The next morning, he wakes to the _ping_ of an email notification from his okcupid account.

Fuck. A message from Dinesh.

_‘Hey Tash, i’m sorry I texted u so much last night. I understand if you’ve blocked my number, but I was really drunk and upset that you didn’t show. Btw, it’s totally fine you didn’t show up, I knew it was probably too soon…but if there’s another explanation, I’d really like to know. thanks’_

Gilfoyle stares at the message, eyes glossing over before letting out a loud sigh. Why did he not admit to himself that this was inevitable?  No one was more predictable than Dinesh. Instead of ignoring the message like he should, he constructs a plausible excuse.

_‘hey Dinesh, I’m sorry about last night. I was nervous and talked myself out of going. I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore.’_

He kicks himself for not cutting off their correspondence with a clean break when Dinesh speedily responds to the apology, eager to mend their relationship and leave this speed bump in the past.

***

Dinesh is predictably sappy, but Gilfoyle sets boundaries. Natasha works a 9 to 5 job and regularly hangs out with friends, so they only message during her lunch hour and in the evening. He sets this up to limit Dinesh’s obsessive tendencies and reduce the guilt on his part.

They talk about life, literature, politics, music, movies. Natasha and Gilfoyle share all the same interests and viewpoints, but Dinesh never notices because Natasha doesn’t constantly compete with him over being the best programmer in Silicon Valley.

All the while, Dinesh and Gilfoyle get along better than usual with a newfound trust stemming from their strange emotional connection on that fateful karaoke night. They’re more open with each other and spend more time hanging out away from work.

The usual drama at Pied Piper continues with Richard’s position in the company just as unstable as it's always been, but Dinesh and Gilfoyle are pretty much guaranteed a spot at the company until PP tanks, which doesn’t look to be any time soon. They rise to the challenges Jared presents them, and they’re more or less comfortable in their newfound job security.

Life’s good, until two months pass, and Dinesh wants to meet Natasha again.


	3. Chapter 3

“She hasn’t responded. I sent the message 10 minutes ago, and it shows she’s read it. What’s her goddamn problem?” Dinesh paces, stress eating an entire bag of KIND cinnamon oat clusters.

Erlich walks by, snatching the bag out of Dinesh’s hand, “No one’s allowed to eat my food, not even during a crisis of romance. What’s the problem?”

Gilfoyle looks up from his book after pretending to read for however long it’s been since Dinesh started panicking. Minutes in Real Person time were hours for Dinesh, which flooded the room with a distinct tension separate from Richard’s usual panic or Jared’s uneasy presence, and Erlich needed to stay 500 feet away from the situation because he was always 2 seconds away from suggesting something impulsive and completely idiotic.

“We don’t need your help, Er-leck mich im arsch.”

“I’ll kiss my own ass, thank-you. And since when did you become the sheriff of Dinesh’s love life, hm?” Erlich fishes out an oat cluster and tosses it into Gilfoyle’s lap, “Tell me your woes, Dinesh.”

He can’t stop this train wreck without revealing his cover, so he simmers in his armchair while Dinesh explains his predicament.

“Me and my girlfriend, Natasha, have been talking for about two and a half months now, and I really want to meet up with her but she’s being so elusive!”

“Whoa, rewind, this chick’s your girlfriend, and you’ve never even met?” This statement leaves the normally loquacious Dinesh embarrassed and mumbling.

“Uh, no, we haven’t uh, met officially, but…”

“And I take it that you guys haven’t had sex yet either.”

Dinesh rubs his fingers together nervously, “No, we were waiting for—“

“Not even _phone sex_. Jesus fucking Christ, Dinesh, can’t you see her game? She’s leading you on!”

A high-pitched buzz rings in Gilfoyle’s ears as he listens to Erlich tear their peace apart. Without Natasha, he couldn’t pursue a relationship with Dinesh; that was clear to him now. He wasn’t going to risk the constancy of their friendship and their drama-free coworker status on the off chance that Dinesh wouldn’t be completely freaked out at the prospect of dating him.

“Excuse me, I have somewhere else to be,” Gilfoyle removes himself from the living room, collecting his thoughts in the kitchen as he chooses the loudest cereal he can from the cupboard. Unfortunately, not even the Sugar Smacks can drown out Erlich’s over-the-top, raspy weasel rant volume.

“Are you sure she _wants_ to fuck you?”

“Yes! I am absolutely sure! There’s no way she doesn’t want to fuck me, like I’m usually not sure about these things, but this time I’m totally sure. Look, look at her messages.”

Dinesh pulls up their messaging history on his laptop and leaves Erlich to scroll through, plunging Gilfoyle further into his living nightmare.

“ _‘You’re honestly one of the funniest, most charming guys I’ve ever met. I’m lucky to have found you.’_ What the fuck is this?”

“She’s just very genuine. It’s not weird.”

“You don’t think she could be one of those rare female serial killers?”

“What’s this about serial killers?” Jared emerges from Richard’s bedroom.

“Dinesh is dating one. How’s Richie by the way?”

Shades of red line Jared’s eyes, indicating severe sleep deprivation, “He’s finally asleep. The doctor said his pneumonia’s almost gone, but his ulcer’s worse than ever. They suggested he quit Pied Piper because he’s aged 25 years in the last 6 months.”

“Yikes,” Erlich manages to say, while Dinesh grimaces in a mix of worry and disgust.

The three men search for the words to continue the conversation, but before any of them have the chance to discuss Richard’s declining health, a small _ping_ issues from Dinesh’s laptop.

“Holy shit. She messaged back.”

Erlich quickly reads the reply aloud uprompted.

_‘I have to be honest with you. I’ve been lying about living in San Francisco. The idea of a long-distance relationship is daunting to most men, and I thought you might not want to talk to me if you knew the truth. I live in Saskatchewan, which might not sound familiar because it’s in Canada. I hope we can continue to talk as friends if you don’t want to date anymore.”_

“She doesn’t hate me! She’s just Canadian. Whew, that is a relief, let me tell you, and it also explains a lot...”

Gilfoyle’s stomach twists at this pitiful, band-aid solution despite Dinesh’s cheerful response. By anyone’s standards, he’s the shittiest friend to walk this godforsaken planet.


	4. Chapter 4

Gilfoyle lounges in one of the backyard chairs, drifting off to sleep while watching the pool water shift underneath the reddish, light-polluted night sky. He’s high or drunk or both; he can’t remember. The sound of a door sliding open catches his attention, and Dinesh is suddenly at his side, pulling up a chair

“I have great news--Wait, is this a bad time?” Dinesh notices his friend is sort of distant, well, more distant than normal.

“Every time’s a bad time, but don’t let that stop you,” not his wittiest come back, but he’s thoroughly intoxicated and half asleep so...

“Really, I can come back later if you’re having a Moment or something—“

“Just tell me the damn news.”

“Well,” Dinesh ignores the edge in Gilfoyle’s voice, “Me and Tasha—that’s what I’ve been calling her now—we’ve decided to have an open relationship so that we don’t limit each other from having sex with people in our immediate, physical area.”

“Wait, I thought you started dating her so that you could sleep with her. Now you _can’t_ sleep with her, but you’re still calling her your girlfriend.”

“I know you don’t understand because you’re so emotionally uninformed, but can you entertain the idea for maybe long enough to be happy for me that love is more than just about sex?” Dinesh abandons their friendly rapport, attempting to coax any amount of tangible emotional support out of Gilfoyle.

“Why do you want so desperately for me to be happy for you? Do you want my real opinion? ‘Tasha’ isn’t real, and some jerkoff has been catfishing you, so stop wasting your time.” That comment certainly got out of hand, but saying the words out loud felt more satisfying than any mind numbing high.

“That’s it. Get up. I’ve had enough,” Dinesh tips his own lawn chair over and prods Gilfoyle with his foot, “Get up you son of a bitch.”

He finishes off his beer before standing to face Dinesh, “What are you gonna do, fight me on behalf of your fake Canadian girlfriend?” Before he’s steady on his feet, Dinesh charges him, plunging both of them into the pool.

Despite the dramatic physicality of the fight, neither throws a punch. Dinesh merely dunks Gilfoyle repeatedly until he runs out of steam and they discover how out of shape they are, both unimpressed by the efficacy of swimming pool-based aggression.

For a moment, the two lay still on the concrete patio, catching their breath and forgetting in their exhaustion why they were so angry with each other.

“I think I saw Jared, Erlich, and Bighead at the window watching us.”

This elicits a chuckle from Dinesh, and Gilfoyle watches his friend smile, suspending reality for the second and transporting them back to a time where no one was in love with anyone and the chaos in their lives was solely work-based.


	5. Chapter 5

They sleep off the fight, and before they can really address what happened, they’re thrown back into their work headfirst with Hooli at their heels and Richard newly awarded a seat at the Pied Piper shareholder table due to his special brand of timid tenacity.

Everyone settles back into their familiar roles. Even Dinesh and Gilfoyle find some sort of common ground after their falling out. Their whole argument seems moot now that Dinesh is so immersed in his work that he doesn’t have the time or resources to maintain a relationship.

Crunch time arrives and passes, leaving the house empty with only routine updates to keep them occupied. When Dinesh finally finds some down time, he checks into his okcupid account, wondering how many messages he’ll have to apologize for not responding to, but his inbox is shockingly empty. Unbelievably empty. So empty that he logs out and back in three times to make sure the site isn’t experiencing some weird error. He searches for Natasha’s page, and she’s nowhere to be found, almost like she never existed.

His first instinct isn’t the most rational.

“I know you have something to do with this!” Dinesh stands between Gilfoyle and the TV screen, snatching the PS4 controller from his hands.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but probably.”

“I went to talk to Natasha today, and her account is just gone. I don’t know how, but you’re responsible.”

“Yeah, I deleted her account,” Gilfoyle replies nonchalantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being facetious. But if you somehow managed to delete her account—“

“You don’t get it. I deleted her account. I am Natasha,” he stands so that Dinesh can’t loom over him with that trademark mock-threatening glare.

“Yeah, right,” he laughs at first, but when Gilfoyle doesn’t admit he’s joking, a quiet shock settles in, “No…you can’t…that’s not possible…she really isn’t real?”

All he can do is shake is head.

“Then that means everything…,” Dinesh continues spiraling, eyes blurred, recalling the events of the past 5 months, “Everything was fake? No one’s actually interested in me, and I’m going to die alone?” His heartbreak turns into rage quickly, remembering that the one to blame for his misfortune is standing right in front of him, “You!”

Jared enters and exits the room before he’s noticed, aware of the palpable tension and unwilling to disturb it.

“You have done nothing but sabotage my life for your own entertainment! Has it made you happy, watching me suffer? Do you derive some sort of twisted, Satanist pleasure from emotionally manipulating me?”

“No.”

“Well, excuse me, but I don’t fucking believe you!” he rises up to his full height, which is still much shorter than Gilfoyle’s 6’1”, and leans in with his jaw jutting upwards to emphasize his point, “And there’s nothing you could ever say that would make me understand your shitty fucking perspective.”

“Can I show you?”

“What does that even mean, ‘Can I show you?’—“

Gilfoyle remains calm, approaching the next few moments with more caution and reserve than Erlich has probably ever exerted in his lifetime, “I mean, can I show you?” He meets Dinesh’s glare with a subtle, pleading expression.

Dinesh thinks the request over and decides he’ll allow it, “Fine, show me why you decided to ruin my life.”

He raises his hand and places it gently on Dinesh’s cheek, while Dinesh freezes but doesn’t back away. Neither is ready for what happens next as Gilfoyle closes the remaining space between them and presses his lips softly against Dinesh’s, pulling away briefly and returning for a deeper kiss. They hold this position for an unknown amount of time, Gilfoyle drawing out each kiss until he feels Dinesh reciprocate at last.

After he’s sure he’s made his point clear, Gilfoyle ends the kiss, pulling away and breaking all physical contact.

“What the fuck was that?” Dinesh swears breathlessly, eyes still closed.

True to form, Gilfoyle responds the only way he knows how, “My shitty fucking perspective.”


	6. Chapter 6

Immediately after the kiss, Dinesh can’t process the fact that the woman he thought he was in love with is actually a man, and on top of that, of all the men in the world that could’ve possibly scammed him, it _had_ to be Bertram fucking Gilfoyle. If Natasha had been literally any other guy, he could’ve dismissed his feelings as byproducts of a skilled manipulator.

But he’d just made out with Gilfoyle, and he was fucked.

Without another word, Dinesh heads straight to the backyard for some fresh air and room to think. He’s barely able to decide whether he wants to sit or stand, let alone ready to contemplate the fallout of what just happened. His stiff legs carry him over to a pool chair and sit him down of their own accord, while Dinesh starts to look for truth in Gilfoyle’s story. Once he plays Natasha’s messages over with Gilfoyle’s voice, he can’t imagine how he read her voice in the first place.

Her dry wit. Her pleasant banter. Her unique outlook on life. Her loyalty. All the qualities that he loved about Natasha were just a repackaged Gilfoyle, orange Crush substituted for orange Fanta.

As he sorts out the pieces of what his life has become, he feels the chair buckle and creak slightly as someone takes a seat at the far end of the foldout chair. They don’t face each other as they talk.

“I’m sorry. If that means anything to you...”

Birds chirp in the arid sunshine while water laps happily at the edge of the pool. Dinesh doesn’t respond.

“I thought it’d be funny, but when I realized it wasn’t, I couldn’t stop. I needed that stupid fucking account as much as you did,” Gilfoyle weighs the silence and decides he should wait for a response, but when Dinesh stays silent, he continues presenting his case, awaiting righteous judgment, “I know I’m a selfish asshole, and I ruined your life. But in case you never talk to me again, which is likely, I want you to know that the only thing about Natasha that was made-up was her name. All the shit I told you, I _meant_ —“

“And that’s the fucking problem!” Dinesh bursts, “If you didn’t mean it, I could write you off as a heartless asshole, but you _did_ mean it, and I have to deal with that. I can’t even look at you now.”

“You masturbated to her picture didn’t you.”

“Of course I did!”

Gilfoyle laughs.

“Stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“Yeah it is,” the more Gilfoyle thinks about it, the harder it is to wipe the grin off his face, “I put an ad out on craigslist for a woman to send me selfies I could use for the profile. As long as she got paid, Jessica Shakusky from Indianapolis was perfectly willing to let me use her identity.”

The absurdity of the situation strikes Dinesh, “Okay, it’s a little funny, but not funny ‘ha-ha’….how much did you pay her?”

“About $300.”

“Jesus Christ! I don’t know whether to pity you for wasting money or Jessica Shakusky for selling her face for the price of a Wii U,” he laughs at his own joke, looking over his shoulder at Gilfoyle only to see a small crowd watching from the window.

“Well, looks like our privacy in this public space behind Erlich’s incubator-slash-house-slash-business has been compromised…should we go back inside?”

They stand and size each other up before proceeding.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” Dinesh warns sternly, keeping some distance between him and Gilfoyle.

“Oh, totally.”

“And you have to swear not to tell anyone that you were Natasha. My heart would probably stop from the embarrassment.”

“Don’t worry. You might not trust me, but at least trust that I wouldn’t accelerate your death in any way.”

The two men continue their verbal tennis, stretching old muscles and feeling out the new territory that lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm finally done. I promise. No more chapters.


End file.
